Chapter III
Political Disturbances in Bavaria
This idyllic life at Possenhofen was interrupted for a time, however, by the political agitations in Munich. All over Europe the spirit of revolution was stirring, a spirit that was soon to find expression in a general outbreak. Nowhere did the royal power seem more secure than in Bavaria. No monarch was more beloved than Ludwig the First, no people so universally loyal to the crown as his good-natured, easy-going subjects. Nevertheless the popular upheaval was here, too, bearing fruit, and a demand for more share in the government, with a freer constitution, was becoming general, although the immediate cause of the outbreak in Munich and the King’s subsequent abdication had seemingly little to do with politics.
About this time a very beautiful and fascinating public dancer, called Lola Montez, made her appearance there and created a great sensation. Her origin was obscure and uncertain; but the best authorities seem to make her the daughter of an Irish officer and a beautiful Spanish woman of Moorish descent. She was born in Ireland in 1820 and at the age of seventeen married one Lieutenant James, with whom she went to the West Indies. She soon left her husband, however, and returned to England, where she prepared herself to become a dancer. While hardly a regular beauty, Lola Montez seems to have possessed in the highest degree what the French call la beauté du diable. She had wonderful black hair, fiery eyes that could change in an instant to melting warmth, a perfect figure, with hands and feet so small and beautifully shaped that a duchess might have envied them.
Her first appearance in London met with no great success—a marked contrast to the enthusiasm she afterward excited everywhere she went. After a season in Paris she obtained a permanent position at the royal theatre in Dresden, where she created a tremendous sensation and was shown great favor by the court. From there she went to Berlin, Warsaw, and St. Petersburg, making a succession of conquests and also many enemies by her violent temper and the frequent use she made of her riding-whip or dagger.
On the tenth of October, 1846, she appeared for the first time at the court theatre in Munich and immediately became the subject of violent discussion, some raving over her beauty, her adventures, and her triumphs, others denouncing her manners and behavior and creating prejudice against her by reports which even went so far as to call her a political spy. Instead of the traditional ballet skirts, Lola presented herself on this occasion in a Spanish costume of silk and lace, diamonds sparkling here and there upon it, her wonderful blue eyes flashing as she curtsied low before the King, who was seated in the royal box. She danced several Spanish dances and all sat spellbound as one charming pose followed another, fascinated by her supple grace of motion and the art with which she could suddenly change from glowing passion to the roguish smiles of an innocent young girl. As soon as she stopped dancing, however, the charm was broken and hisses were mingled with the applause.
It was Ludwig’s custom to receive all foreign artists in person, before they could appear at the court theatre. At his interview with Lola Montez the old man had been completely fascinated by her beauty and lively conversation, and was soon desperately in love with the clever dancer, who knew so well how to amuse and entertain him. He was constantly seen in her company and at all her evening parties, an intimacy which was not long in arousing the displeasure of his family and subjects to the highest degree. Public feeling against the hated dancer soon began to display itself, and in the following Spring she retired with the King to Würzburg, where she behaved with the same boldness and indiscretion as in the capital.
One day she made a frightful scene because the guard would not allow her dog to enter the park where she wished to walk. The officer on duty was hastily summoned and tried to make her understand that the soldier was in the right, whereupon she struck him across the face with her riding-whip. Out of respect for the King, no one ventured to arrest her, but the officers and citizens of Würzburg were so infuriated she was forced to leave the city secretly.
The leader of the old Catholic party, Joseph Görres, worked actively against her, and the press was not slow to fan the flame. Libels and lampoons were spread broadcast throughout the city, enraging the dancer, who in revenge forced the King to gratify all her wishes and drew him ever deeper into her toils. To annoy her enemies, and at the same time obtain entrance for herself into the highest circles, she persuaded the King to make her a countess. This he could not do, however, without the consent of his ministers, who positively refused to agree to such an act; furthermore they sent a memorandum to the King urging that Lola be expelled from the kingdom. Ludwig replied to this request by dismissing not only the entire ministry, but many of their adherents, among whom were several professors in the university; and from this time on “the Bavarian Pompadour,” as Lola Montez has been called, became an important factor in politics.
The university was now like the glowing crater of a volcano whence issued all the pent-up hatred and discontent, and on the ninth of February, 1848, came the first great eruption. Lola, whose southern blood craved excitement, attempted to show herself among the riotous throngs, but was forced to take refuge in a church, thoroughly frightened for once. The King was furious when he heard of this, and as the students had been at the bottom of the demonstration, he ordered the university closed and all non-resident students sent away from Munich. The next day the whole body of students marched through the Karlstrasse to the house of their distinguished chaplain, Professor Thiersch, singing songs of farewell, and greeted with cheers from every window they passed. There was a close bond of sympathy between the university and the citizens, who held a meeting at once, protesting against the severity of the King’s order and petitioning him to open the university again. Ludwig promised to take the matter into consideration, and after a conference with his ministers agreed to yield to the wishes of the citizens, furthermore proclaiming that the Countess Landsfeld, as Lola was now called, should be requested to leave Munich. “No one shall come between me and my people,” he declared. This news was received with great rejoicing and the house in which the hated favorite lived was surrounded day and night by curious throngs, anxiously awaiting her departure. At last, on the morning of the eleventh of February, the doors were suddenly thrown open by a squad of police, and before the crowd outside realized what was happening, the coach containing the Countess had started off at a furious gallop on the road to Blutenburg. From there she fled to Lindau and thence to England, subsequently making her way to the United States and later to Australia, where she died in 1861 at the age of forty, after a varied and adventurous career.
The revolution of February, which had already taken place in Paris, was followed by similar uprisings throughout Europe, and added fuel to the fire in Bavaria. The citizens of Munich again rose in revolt, and the Government could no longer remain deaf to their just demands for a more liberal constitution. The King made some concessions which partially appeased the loyal Bavarians, and the disturbance seemed about to subside, when a report that Lola Montez had returned to Munich caused a fresh outbreak. Official notices were posted that evening on every street corner, affirming that the Countess Landsfeld had left Karlsruhe on the fourteenth of March for Frankfort, and had been forbidden ever to set foot again on Bavarian soil; but the people laughed this to scorn. The placards were torn down and the insurgents continued their work of destruction.